Dutch Church Libel

Ye strangers yt doe inhabite in this lande
Note this same writing doe it vnderstand
Conceit it well for savegard of your lyves
Your goods, your children, & your dearest wives
Your Machiavellian Marchant spoyles the state,
     Your vsery doth leave vs all for deade
Your Artifex, & craftesman works our fate,
And like the Jewes, you eate us vp as bread
The Marchant doth ingross all kinde of wares
     Forestall’s the markets, whereso ’ere he goe’s
Sends forth his wares, by Pedlers to the faires,
     Retayle’s at home, & with his horrible showes: Vndoeth thowsands
In Baskets your wares trott up & downe
     Carried the streets by the country nation,
You are intelligencers to the state & crowne
     And in your hartes doe wish an alteracion,
You transport goods, & bring vs gawds good store
     Our Leade, our Vittaile, our Ordenance & what nott
That Egipts plagues, vext not the Egyptians more
     Then you doe vs; then death shall be your lotte
Noe prize comes in but you make claime therto
     And every merchant hath three trades at least,
And Cutthrote like in selling you vndoe
     vs all, & with our store continually you feast: We cannot suffer long.
Our pore artificers doe starve & dye
     For yt they cannot now be sett on worke
And for your worke more curious to the ey[.]
     In Chambers, twenty in one house will lurke,
Raysing of rents, was never knowne before
     Living farre better then at native home
And our pore soules, are cleane thrust out of dore
     And to the warres are sent abroade to rome,
To fight it out for Fraunce & Belgia,
     And dy like dogges as sacrifice for you
Expect you therefore such a fatall day
     Shortly on you, & yours for to ensewe: as never was seene.
Since words nor threates nor any other thinge
     canne make you to avoyd this certaine ill
Weele cutte your throtes, in your temples praying
     Not paris massacre so much blood did spill
As we will doe iust vengeance on you all
     In counterfeitinge religion for your flight
When ’t’is well knowne, you are loth, for to be thrall
     your coyne, & you as countryes cause to flight
With Spanish gold, you all are infected
     And with yt gould our Nobles wink at feats
Nobles said I? nay men to be reiected,
     Upstarts yt enioy the noblest seates
That wound their Countries brest, for lucres sake
     And wrong our gracious Queene & Subiects good
By letting strangers make our harts to ake
     For which our swords are whet, to shedd their blood
And for a truth let it be vnderstoode/Fly, Flye, & never returne.

per. Tamberlaine